


Simple Truths (The Self-Referential Remix)

by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), Domestic Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Tony Stark, Winter, romance novels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/pseuds/Sadisticsparkle
Summary: It was nothing mimosas and an online shopping spree couldn’t solve. Yes, Stephen had a girlfriend (again) and he wasn’t picking up her calls (again), but when he returned… She wanted to say she was a strong, independent woman who needed no man, but the truth was that just like always, a glitterbomb would go off between her legs when the hunky fireman returned. How could she resist the call of the tall, ripped, All-American mermaid?Tony closed the book. What the hell was Steve reading and did it mean he had a chance?





	Simple Truths (The Self-Referential Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Simple Truths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128619) by [sheron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron). 



> Thanks to brokeneisenglas for the beta!

Walking across empty New York streets lit by blinking fluorescent lights, Tony huddled inside his coat under the falling snow. The Mansion was near and it beckoned him like a lighthouse with a promise of warmth and refuge, so he hurried the last steps towards it. Inside, the Avengers would be hanging around and there’d be hearty, homemade food and no Board of Directors to yell at. A welcome respite from work and super-heroing, at least until an alert went off or something landed on Central Park. There were some lights on, so people were still awake. He crossed the garden trying not to slip on the ice. He was relieved when he got to the door with his dignity and his ass intact. He took out his hand from his pocket and put it over the doorknob, but before he could open it, Jarvis did.

“Welcome,” Jarvis said and pushed two hot mugs of chocolate into his hands before Tony could speak. “Please take this to the library.”

Tony had learned a long time ago not to argue with Jarvis about these matters. Maybe Jan had settled in her favorite spot that overlooked the garden, with a good book and one of her cute robes. Tony had always loved the bee one - she insisted it had a wasp pattern, but they all knew the truth. Or maybe some of the reserve members had decided to make a stop during one of their patrols. Tony knew how welcome a cup of chocolate could be in those circumstances, not just because it was delicious, but it because it showed somebody cared. Maybe he could settle down on one of the couches too. Because even if it was slippery and awful, Tony had to admit snow was a little bit magical. But since that still didn’t mean warm and cozy, it was way better to watch it slowly cover the garden from the warm, warm inside.

When he crossed over the library threshold, he realized it wasn’t Jan - instead, Steve was lounging there, so adorably engrossed in the book he hadn’t even realized Tony had arrived. Tony allowed himself to marvel at the privilege of getting to see Captain America himself relaxed like that. He was sinking into the best sofa, wearing a fuzzy robe with some hideous orange slippers, an old blue T-shirt Tony had given him for some birthday and a pair of flannel pants. His muscles bulged under the T-shirt and, despite how roomy the pants were, Steve’s bulge was there for the noticing as well.

Tony blushed. He wasn’t supposed to look, but what else could he do when Steve was that damn hot? He leaned against the doorway in a carefully careless way he had perfected in his college years and that was still incredibly effective. 

“Hi, Cap.”

When he heard Tony, Steve stood up with a jolt and hid the book under the cushion with an elegant and quick move. What was that reaction about? Tony had barely seen the cover -some ship and some soldier, so he assumed it was one of those historical nautical novels where everybody ejaculates about knots and seamen. But it couldn’t be so embarrassing to warrant hiding.

“Oh, Tony. Is that…”

“Chocolate. Courtesy of Jarvis.”

He crossed the room and sat next to Steve, who took his mug and sipped it with delight written all over his face. “This is delicious.”

“It always is. I guess it’s made with love or at least really expensive chocolate. What were you reading?”

Steve’s ears went bright red. “Um. Some silly book Jan loaned me.”

“Oh, was it one of her erotic novels? She loves those.”

“She… how do you know that?”

“Oh, we discuss them sometimes. We like to mock bad BDSM practices. It’s our private book club.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly. “You know about that kind of thing?”

Oh, damn. “Well. I’ve read about it, you know, in the Daily Bugle… how’s the chocolate? Mine’s great.”

Steve usually was like a hound that had caught a scent whenever Tony was hiding something, but now he didn't seem to care. “Oh, yes, it’s some European chocolate you brought from a business trip. It’s my favorite,” Steve said instead.

Which was why Tony had brought it, but it was better if Steve didn’t know.

They kept talking about the new Avengers members and a new Ethiopian restaurant that had opened recently and about who was dating who. Tony was one of the major gossip purveyors of superhero gossip and as much as Steve liked to pretend he was above such matters, whenever they got to talk late at night, he’d listen attentively to all the comings and goings. (”It’s for tactical reasons. You don’t want to put recent exes in the same team,” he’d say like he always did.) Their conversation meandered until Steve fell asleep in the couch in the midst of Tony’s riveting account of his Board meeting that day.

“Hey, Cap, I think it’s time to go to bed.”

Steve jolted up again. “What? Who’s attacking…?”

Tony put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pressed down. “Nobody. It’s a quiet night and we both need to get to sleep.”

“Oh, you’re staying?”

He shrugged. “I’m too tired and this is home too.”

 

It was home, yes. And he was in his bed and it was almost familiar, but he couldn’t sleep, not with the whirlwind of questions pestering his mind - why had Steve hidden the book? Was it the latest Tony Stark tell-all? Had he heard about the allegations in there? Steve wouldn’t buy it, but… he had to make sure of it. If Steve was hiding something from him, it couldn’t be irrelevant. It was important. Steve and him, despite everything, had held on to their honesty to each other. Losing that again was not a possibility he wanted to consider.

He left the protection of his blanket, shivered in the cold, grabbed an old flannel robe and put on his slippers. They were old, but they reminded him of happy times. Without turning on the light, he opened his bedroom door quietly - years of sharing a home with a super-soldier and Asgardian gods and really nosy insects had taught him stealth - and tiptoed down the stairs in the dark. The plush, lush carpet swallowed the sound and he didn’t need to turn on the hallway lights - he knew his way around the Mansion. It didn’t take him long to find the library, even if he stubbed his toes a few times before doing so. The moonlight that sneaked through the windows was enough to see that Jarvis had taken the chocolate mugs away, but that the book was still peaking from below the sofa cushion. He crossed the room with resolute strides and gingerly took it, then turned on the table lamp and examined it.

It was a simple, humble, unassuming paperback with a ship and a captain on the cover. He had seen them before but he had missed the dark-haired woman with the generous bosom kneeling at the feet of the blond hunk in old-timey azure clothes. In flowy, red letters it said ‘His Lordship’s Stowaway Duchess’. That… wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t even know the book was in his library, let alone that Steve liked reading romance novels. He turned it around, wanting to read the summary. Maybe there was an explanation there.

> When jilted heiress Tabitha Starr is told her late fiance is not dead, but alive and well in the Colonies, she decides to take her revenge to him. Forbidden by her father to undertake the dangerous journey, she escapes and joins the crew of The Avenger. Will the dutiful yet temperamental Captain of the ship discover her? And what would he do if he discovers that the smart cabin boy he’s decided to mentor isn’t a boy, but a spirited, stubborn woman searching for love and redemption?

Okay. That didn’t explain anything. Had Steve picked it because of the name of the ship? It was the kind of sentimental gesture Steve liked but pretended he didn’t. But since when did Steve read romance novels of dubious quality? And how come Tony had never known that? If Steve’s delighted reactions to his gifts across the years were any measure, Tony was an expert in Steve’s tastes. He didn’t just know what Steve liked to wear and his favorite foods and his favorite types of training. He also knew Steve’s reading choices - a healthy mix of science fiction, cozy mysteries and serious historical fiction. Was this Jan’s doing? Right, he had she had loaned it to him. He checked the first page of the book. In very prim letters it said ‘Steve Rogers’.

That showed it was Steve’s and that he had lied for some reason, but it was the only one he had, right? There couldn’t be an entire field of Steve’s likes that he didn’t know about. He tiptoed to the corner of the library where Steve usually stored his books and caressed the spines of the books with his thumb, checking the titles. ‘The Lake Crescent Murders’. ‘The Tinsmith’s Sister’. ‘A Confident Man’. ‘Metalwork Cyclops of Io’. ‘Getting over Stephen Ranger’. 

Now that was interesting. He took it out - it was worn and very, very bright pink. There was a cartoonish dark-haired woman with an hourglass figure on the cover. Maybe somebody else had given it to him, after noticing the title, as some sort of joke. Or maybe Steve had been intrigued by how he was portrayed. He opened it on the first page, determined to find out.

>   
>  It was nothing mimosas and an online shopping spree couldn’t solve. Yes, Stephen had a girlfriend (again) and he wasn’t picking up her calls (again), but when he returned… She wanted to say she was a strong, independent woman who needed no man, but the truth was that just like always, a glitterbomb would go off between her legs when the hunky fireman returned. How could she resist the call of the tall, ripped, All-American mermaid?
> 
> Especially when the outline in his jeans was clear - he was hung.
> 
> _Stop it, Tanya._
> 
> They were just friends and he was never going to look at her that way. When they met in college, she had been ‘one of the guys’, fixing cars and drinking beer with the best of them. But now that she was a polished engineer with a successful company built from the ashes of her father’s empire, it didn’t seem to matter. No amount of high heels, make-up or tight dresses was going to move her from the Best Friend category to the Potential Girlfriend one.

He slammed it closed. Tanya, the engineer? Stephen Ranger, the sexy fireman? This had to be why Steve was reading them, but how did he feel about it? Was he uncomfortable? Did Tony need to sue some publishers? Or was he amused? But if he was, why hadn’t he shared it with Tony, so they could laugh at it together? Why had he hidden it from him?

Next to it was something called ‘Wild Wild Wedding’. According to the summary, it was by the same author as the other one and had about the same mix of triteness and high-concept zaniness.

> Rich heiress Augusta Strong wants nothing to do with marrying the boring banker her father has chosen - so when she sees an ad in the newspaper asking for a bride, she has no better idea than to run West!
> 
> Roger Stevens is a lonely rancher trying to make a living in the Wild West. When a stubborn, sassy brunette shows up claiming to be his bride, will love blossom? Or will their stubborn natures stand on their way to happiness?

Apparently, between the astronauts, the daring soldiers, and the grim detectives, Steve also liked stories about spirited heiresses. There was no stopping his curiosity now - he took another one from the shelf, one with a sleek, black cover with a lone red rose. The title was ‘A Thorn of Love’. He rolled his eyes even before opening it.

> Across the ballroom, a man was staring at me. He was tall, dark and handsome like he came out of a romance novel. I knew who he was - Anthony Thorn, the famous businessman. His steel blue eyes pierced through me. My Inner Voice was overjoyed, but I played it cool. I was not that kind of girl who falls into the arms of a sexy, dangerous millionaire with a mysterious, dark glare. I was a strong, independent woman fresh off art school and chasing after freelance gigs. People said I was attractive, but I wasn’t sure. I was tall, yes, and kept in good shape, but I had always found my All-American looks clichéd and bland. 
> 
> He kept silent as if he was waiting for me. I tried to resist but I was pulled by an invisible force, I had to go to him.
> 
> I did not know how that night would impact my life.

Tony flicked through the rest of the pages. It was a lot of boring sex scenes that seemed written by somebody who had once watched half a Netflix documentary about BDSM. He couldn’t believe Steve liked that. If he was into it, Tony could have hooked him up with porn that was a lot better. It didn’t seem like Steve would be, but now the images wouldn’t leave his head. They crossed his mind like a stampede of wet dreams. Steve panting, tied up to the ceiling. His wrists handcuffed as he licked Tony’s favorite shoes. Steve’s neck covered with a collar. Or even better - Steve crawling towards him, Tony’s wrists tied firmly to the headboard, his body still hurting but ready for more.

He shook his head. A secret penchant for housewife porn didn’t mean Steve wanted to tie Tony up somewhere and spank him until he cried and begged for more. Tony’s life was never that perfect.

A page was marked - the book opened on it as if Steve had read it through a bunch of times.

> My wrists were bound to the headboard and he was staring at me like a hungry wolf staring at a juicy steak. I would let him devour me. He twisted the whip in his hands. I closed my eyes and readied myself.

Okay. His fantasies didn’t need any encouragement, but it was hard not to picture Steve guiltily reading that page over and over again, skin flushed and his tongue licking his lips like he did when he was concentrated.

He started opening all the books that looked promising. The summaries ran together in his mind - was this ‘The Engineer’s Magic Christmas’ or ‘The Billionaire’s Christmas Mansion’? _‘It’s Stella’s first Christmas away from home, working for a dark, tall and handsome billionaire who made his fortune selling weapons. Recovering from a terrible accident, he has hired Stella to be his caretaker. Will love bless the season of joy?’_ What was Steve even reading? Was this some sort of joke? Did he find the idea of Tony and him together so funny that he just had to buy all the romance novels starring thinly-veiled versions of them?

Because… if not, it didn’t make any sense. What enjoyment could Steve get out of something like ‘A Scot’s Knot’? Or rather… what did it mean that Steve was into novels where Highlanders with dog cocks named Steafan ravished brunet women named Antonia? 

There was one easy, simple answer to that, but it wasn’t something Tony wanted to contemplate. If he did, he’d open the door to hope and disappointment was sure to follow like Pietro was always sure to follow Wanda.

Engrossed in finding out the truth, he didn’t realize somebody had arrived until the light was turned on. He yelped and turned around, dread mounting in his chest.

Standing on the doorway, with a stricken face, was Steve. The book fell from Tony’s hands. It landed on the plush carpet with a muted thud that was still loud and clear in the silence of the darkened room. “Okay, I can explain,” Tony said, opening his arms wide and trying to think of an explanation that didn’t sound as if he was creepily over-invested in Steve’s habits. Which he was, so that added to the difficulty of finding a good excuse.

Steve shook his head and didn’t leave the doorway. He didn’t have his robe on anymore and he was barefoot, but he was still wearing the same T-shirt and the same pajamas. His hair was tousled in an exquisite careless way - he had just woken up, then. “I. It’s… it’s your library. I’m the one that should apologize.”

It was Tony’s turn to shake his head. “Steve, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

Steve took one tentative step into the library, with a frown of confusion. If somebody didn’t know Steve well, they’d think he was still sleepy, but Tony knew better. He remembered countless times when villains had attacked or when Tony had arrived very late at night. Each of those times, Steve had been up in seconds, fully conscious and aware. Tony’d show up after some cocktail party or after working until late in the company and Steve would be there before he even opened the door, with a fresh cup of coffee and a friendly ear. No matter what Tony was dealing with, he’d listen - taxes, temperamental engines that weren’t working, romantic trouble, villains that were proving hard to catch. Tony had always hoarded those moments, like a greedy pining dragon. So if Steve was still confused, it wasn’t that he had just woke up, it meant that there was something about the situation that Steve couldn’t quite understand.

But at least now the two of them were confused and not just Tony. They were on equal footing. This wouldn’t be an argument, but a conversation. 

He hoped.

“You’re not angry?” Steve said.

“Why would I be? It’s just romance novels. About us. I can see why you’d find it funny.”

As a peace offering and to show how okay he was with the barely disguised fanfiction - he was always okay with everything, really, he was the King of Okay -, Tony picked up the book from the floor and put it back where it belonged, in Steve’s secret stash of romance novels he still couldn’t believe he had never found out before. He had failed as a stalker and probably as a friend too, if Steve had been too ashamed to tell him about it. 

But Steve’s face had gone even paler, like did his knuckles when he gripped the doorway. “Funny?”

“Well, _Steafan held her and she trembled like a naked leaf with really hard nipples_?”

That image had been particularly startling and memorable, but Tony couldn’t really call it a good metaphor. None of the sex scenes he had come across were to his liking, at all.

“It’s not… Those scenes aren’t really why I read them.”

Steve still sounded nervous - like a very nervous leaf with really hard muscles -, so Tony sat on the top of the sofa, trying to look casual, in a very spontaneous not-at-all planned way. Steve didn’t think this was just about romance novels or a silly habit, did he? Something more momentous was going on and Tony wanted to know what it was.

“Then why do you like it?” he asked. 

Maybe if he sounded like an interested friend Steve would feel more at ease, but it didn’t work. Steve shrugged with the same awkward, stiff attitude, before starting to turn away. “They’re nice fantasies,” he said, looking away from Tony.

Fantasies. Hm. Tony knew Steve was an idealist and a man who always saw the world as it could be, but Tony wouldn’t have said Steve liked getting lost in romantic reveries. The reason Steve’s belief was so strong and so inspiring was that he was convinced they could be real, if only people tried a bit harder (’harder’, in this case, being ‘a superhuman attempt at defeating the kind of temptations Steve Rogers never dealt with’, but Tony wasn’t bitter). And Steve sounded so defeated, he had to make it better. Steve hadn’t even turned to face him again, so Tony stood up from the sofa. He could get closer to Steve and… comfort him.

“You don’t need fantasies. Why should you? _You_ are one. You’re… you’re one of these guys in the covers, you know? Making everybody go weak at their knees with your resplendent smile and your golden shiny hair and your sparkling eyes.”

Steve looked at him over his shoulder. That was an improvement. He hated it when Steve wasn’t looking at him.

"What if that's not good enough? What happens when… when the shine wears off and people realize I’m just… me and not some fantasy?"

As if that was even possible. Steve was, possibly, the best person Tony knew. Tony blurted out his answer, before he could even stop and think. "You’re good enough for me. Shine’s never really worn off.” Oh, damn. Could he manage to turn that around? Sound a little more heterosexual? Or at least a little less infatuated? “…and I know you’re a stubborn self-righteous ass with a passive-aggressive streak and a melodramatic core."

And now he had insulted Steve. Great. Maybe angry would be better than sad.

“What?” Steve said.

_Play it cool, Stark._

“Oh. You know, what with us being… friends and being familiar with your minimal flaws and foibles, but still generally liking you and admiring you and considering you a… a beacon. A light.”

Normal friend stuff, right?

“Tony…” Steve said, a little doubtful. But then he seemed to make a decision. He knew because that was Steve’s decisive face - the thin lips, the squared jaw, the squinted eyes - and Tony equally loved it and dreaded it. “…the books. You said it yourself - they’re about _us_. Can't you see?”

“It’s pretty obvious, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“You’re supposed to be a genius, Tony Stark.”

Oh.

Oh. They were fantasies. _About them._ Which meant that maybe Tony’s crush wasn’t as hopeless as he had always believed it to be and maybe, just maybe, he was closer to a spirited young heiress than he had thought possible. But how could he tell Steve how he felt? All the complicated tangle of emotions residing in his chest, the surge of joy and love that he felt every time he saw Steve. There were no words for it, but he had to try if he was going to make Steve understand.

“Oh,” he said eloquently.

Steve walked towards him as if he was measuring each step. Maybe words weren’t even needed. Maybe Tony’s face said enough.

“When I opened my eyes, you were the first person I saw. I was lost, but you were so open and so generous to me. So warm. Like a knight in shining armor bringing me home. It felt like something out of a novel so when I read them, these novels about us… it’s nice, knowing that somebody else thinks there’s something here. Or… or am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Tony still couldn’t speak so he grabbed Steve’s shoulders and crashed into him. The kiss was a supernova that turned into a black hole that erased everything but that kiss and Steve’s strong, warm, firm body against his. Tony’s heart was pounding, betraying how much this mattered to him. He made some sort of noise when Steve pulled him in even closer, some needy, desperate noise coming from the depth of his desire. He closed his eyes, let Steve’s arms envelop him and all his insecurity, all the nights spent alone wondering and all the days spent yearning for Steve went away in an instant. Their kiss was blunt and clumsy and not what Tony was used to, but that just made Tony’s chest flutter and clamor for more. Which was lucky, because Steve’s hands were going lower and lower, so more is what he was going to get. 

And considering Steve’s taste in literature, maybe he’d even get that spanking.


End file.
